Inferno
by YouCantCancelQuidditch7
Summary: Amy has four days left to live. To make this worst, she's lost in Paris with no way to personally get in contact with her family members. The only one she can depend on is a homeless orphan named Arabelle. Can she find a way to get back to her family and complete the antidote before her time runs out? Or will her life go up in a blaze?
1. Inferno Chapter One

**Inferno Chapter One**

The outside of the hotel was filled with laughter and flowers and romance, like the city of love should. Paris, one of the few places Amy could recall without struggling to remember the events. It was where the clue hunt had first taken them overseas, where she and Dan, her younger brother, had teamed up with Uncle Alistair and had been trapped in the Catacombs thanks to the Kabras. But now, those memories, even the bad ones, were something she cherished because now she felt worse than she had in her entire life.

Jake had been right. It was her fault that Pony was dead and that Dan was kidnapped. Taking the serum basically meant slowly killing herself. And that's what she was doing as she lie in her bed looking at the ceiling. Dan was missing. Alistair was dead. She had left Jake. Evan was dead. Natalie was dead. William McIntyre was dead. Grace was dead. Her parents were dead. Next in line for the dead list: Amy Cahill.

But that was if they couldn't find the mysterious antidote. In the next room, Ian Kabra, Hamilton Holt, Jonah Wizard, and Atticus Rosenbloom were looking down at the formula Atticus had memorized, trying to figure out how they would get all of this in four days. Jake had left, screaming about her being the problem and if he never saw this goddamn family again it would be the best blessing he had ever received. He was demanding that Atticus come with him, but the eleven year old had lifted his chin defiantly and told him that he wasn't going to be the one who let Amy die. With that, Jake left, but not exactly on his own terms. Hamilton had punched him, Jonah had opened the door, and Ian threw his suitcase at him with all the force the-Big-Man-Upstairs gave him. It hit him square in the chest and knocked the dazed Rosenbloom out into the hall.

Then, Jonah had closed the door and locked it.

Amy's lip trembled. He was right. This was all her fault. She was the one destined to lead this family in good times and bad, but she had passed the leadership onto her little brother on account of the serum beginning to take over her body. Now, she had put Dan into harms way for the millionth time, but this time wasn't like the last. She didn't have the strength to save him last-minute like every other time. She was going to die, and so was he. The Madrigal-blood-line would begin to fade into the darkness, slowly losing the actual blood until all that was left was recruits from other branches that had decided that Madrigal was best.

She listened to the quiet murmurs of her peers. They were talking hushly so that they didn't worry her, but the silence had unsettled her. Amy shifted in her bed, trying to block them out, but her hearing had been hightened since she took the Serum. Pulling the pillow over her head, Amy let out a sigh and closed her eyes. Ignore them, she told herself. They'll find a way.

_They have to._

There was a knock on the door. Jonah stepped in, leaving the door ajar as he came in a few paces. His body language looked tense, as if he was nervous. He has never been the best with his hands and shoulders, but his face shown with assurance. She knew better, but his huge smile made her want to smile and agree.

"How are you feeling?" Jonah asked, his eyebrows raised and face cheery.

"Like crap, to be honest with you," she said. Her voice came out small, like Grace's before her suffering was ending. "How's it going out there? Need any of my help? I can Google stuff and research-"

"No, no, Ames. Hamilton is handling all the computer stuff. Ian's breaking codes like a madman while Att and I are working on the languages." His voice dropped. "To be honest with you, I'm like a coffee boy since Ass Face took the other laptop. There's a cafe down the block. Do you want anything?"

Amy hesitated. Sleeping meant longer lifespan, Atticus had told her. But sleep also meant being unconscious during her next days, which had dwindled down to four - maximum. She pushed herself up painfully and nodded. "Yeah. A cup of the largest coffee you can bring me."

Jonah opened his mouth to interject, but closed it and gave her his famous smile. He turned and left, closing the door softly behind him.

Amy eased her feet onto the floor and walked to the bathroom, where she sat in the bath tub and soaked for half an hour. Then she bathed and changed into jeans and a sweater, even though it was a warm spring evening in France. She walked out with her hair weakly towel-dried and sat next to Atticus. Ian looked up from the table and he frowned.

"Love, you really should be resting your energy for when we leave to go to - where is the bloody map? - Moscow."

"Moscow? In Russia?"

"That's what I said."

"Wow... I can sleep on the plane. When do we leave?"

Hamilton hit enter on the keyboard and looked towards her. "Plane takes off in two hours. We should leave soon." He closed the laptop and everyone began packing. When Amy tried to help, she was told that they had it so she finally sat back and waited. Ian came out with her suitcase, which she hadn't unpacked since they gotten to Paris, and rolled it by the door.

Jonah came back in a few minutes and gave her - as she expected - a small coffee. When she glared, he looked down at his feet and walked off, muttering that he was told not to. She sipped it anyways.

Amy slowly began to resent the way they babied her, as if one more once of caffeine would kill her or helping search on the web. She gave a deep sigh as she followed the boys out of the hotel room. Atticus walked with his nose in a book, but she could see the tear stains on his face.

Down in the lobby, Jake Rosenbloom stood with two uniformed policemen. "Them, Officers," he said as he pointed. "They held me and my brother hostage. They threatened to have us killed. Arrest them."

The police made their way towards them. Atticus jumped in front and shook his hands at the police. "Stop! Please! Jake is lying! He-He-Please! They didn't do anything! Jake! Stop this!"

Ian got between Amy and the cops and began to back up. "Love, take the stairs and go out the back entrance. We'll hold them off here. Go!"

Amy turned and ran, pushing past people checking in and out. One cop began to chase her, but Ian tripped him. She glanced into a wall-mounted mirror and saw they had Jonah in cuffs and Hamilton was hitting his way through one cop to get to Jake, who had Atticus in tow as he ran. The cops tazed the Tomas and he went down. Ian didn't go down quietly. They carried him to the police car first.

The Kabra was kicking and yelling, screaming, "_My father is Vikram Kabra! Do you hear me, you French Buffoon?!__**Kabra!**__I'll have your bloody badge for this, you twat faced git!"_

Jake, thinking he was holding his brother far enough away, dared tl taunt Ian. "I don't believe the father who left you can help you any longer, Ian." The Lucian snarled and jerked back against the cops. Their arms gave enough leverage for him to execute a swift kick in Jake's throat. Jake gurgled and gagged, clawing at his throat. Atticus loved his brother, but did not help.

Amy ran with no knowledge that the cops weren't chasing her. She had the back door in sight when she began to feel dizzy. She slowed and began to stumble when she fell into the door. It swung open and dropped her onto the gravel ground. Amy groaned and pushed herself up. She ran some more until she was in the parking garage. The staff parking was in sight when the worst happened.

She had another black out.

Amy's face connected with a small white car. She fell by the left back tire, unconscious.


	2. Inferno Chapter 2

**Inferno Chapter Two**

Arabelle examined her surroundings before crawling out of the abandoned refrigerator box. Around her, police sirens screamed and shot by like bullets. People were muttering in rapid French, gossiping and pointing to a nearby hotel. Arabelle squinted and pushed herself to her feet, walking to the edge of the alley and peering around the sides. She gained the disgusted faces of multiple people, who hurried away from her and muttered about how gross she was. Arabelle lifted her chin and walked past them. She didn't need their help. She was fine all on her own.

She followed the police cars down to the hotel, where she watched them place three screaming males into the vehicles. One was screaming about Vikram Kabra, the wealthy art dealer she had heard so much about these past few days. Apparently, he was putting all of his bought art of display at a festival being held next week. It was what everyone was talking about on the French streets, and Arabelle enjoyed all the news she overheard. She crossed the busy street quickly and looked at the scene from behind the light pole on the corner.

One of the boys was tall and muscular, with broad shoulders and a firm jaw. His knuckles were busted and bloody from fighting, she supposed. A few of the cops showed signs of abuse. The other boy had dark skin and a pretty face, with baggy clothes and multiple gold chains. He was yelling about wanting his lawyer, but he was ignored for the moment. The last boy had caramel skin and the nicest clothes of any of them. He was the one yelling about Vikram, and suddenly kicked a bystander in the throat. Arabelle gasped and took a step back. This scene was all too familiar – the fighting, yelling, policemen breaking up a fight that only God knows how it started. She backed away from the light, closing her small fists repeatedly. She couldn't relive this. Not again.

A car honked suddenly, and all heads whipped her way. Arabelle turned and saw the taxi speeding towards her, its head lights blazing like wide animal eyes. She screamed and jumped back onto the side walk, splayed out on her chest when it zoomed by. The driver didn't offer to stop. As she pushed herself up, she saw the blood dripping off her chin, where she had scraped it when she landed. She quickly wiped it off with the back of her grimy hand.

_"Arrêtez!" _a police officer screamed, pointing at her with his night stick.

But Arabelle did not stop. She shoved herself up and ran as fast as her legs would take her, past the hotel and down the block. Boots chased after her, attached to legs much longer than hers. But she turned the corner quickly and was, unexpectedly, in a parking garage surrounded by a sea of cars. Behind her, two police officers were yelling and running, telling her they meant no harm, but Arabelle knew better. They would take her in, get her wounds treated, and she would be shipped off to the foster car again just like last time. Instead of listening, she ran down the lot and behind an SUV. The officers stopped at the door and looked around. She watched them through the window. They called for her, and began to walk down the aisle, their flashlights shooting between cars. Arabelle silently lay on the floor and rolled under the SUV. She held her breath and remained as still as she could until they passed. A few minutes later, they gave up their search and left.

Arabelle crawled out from under the vehicle and walked around the lot, looking for another entrance out. There must have been one somewhere, she thought. Maybe towards the other side, there was an exit. There had to be. If there wasn't, how would cars get out?

Around the other side was few cars, but Arabelle gasped loudly. There, beside a parked white car with blood stains on the bumper, was a younger girl, possibly sixteen, lying on the ground. She watched the girl from a distance. She was breathing, at least, but around her was blood, as if she had suffered from a head injury. Arabelle was unsure of how long she was there, but she figured no one was coming to this side of the lot for a while since the lack of cars. She would bleed out before anyone came. Arabelle's heart thumped loudly, deafening her ears as she slowly walked over to the girl.

She had auburn hair with slight freckles and fair skin. She was very pretty in Arabelle's opinion. Her cotton sweater was stained red on her right shoulder, and her legs were splayed sloppily, as if she had fell and hit her head on the bumper. Arabelle nervously stuck her small twelve year old hand on the girl's forehead. She was burning up.

Arabelle shook her. The girl groaned, but didn't wake. She shook her harder, even hit her arm. She had to wake up. She couldn't die! Not in a filthy parking garage!

The girl groaned again and rolled on her back. Her eyes blinked open to reveal bright green ones. They stared up at Arabelle in confusion and horror. Arabelle locked eyes with the girl, both of them tense like cats, when they heard the sound of boots and French men speaking loudly, calling for the little girl to come back. They had returned with more men. The clicking of toenails touching the concrete floor was present, and the sniffing came too. Arabelle gulped. Dogs.

But before she knew it, the girl had grabbed her hand and was pulling her out the exit. Arabelle followed, running behind the bleeding girl as if the dogs of hell were on her heels.

They didn't stop for hundreds of miles it seemed. They hadn't spoken a word, but were suddenly allies against the police. Arabelle remembered the spy movies she used to watch with her father, the way they could blow up skyscrapers and have no harm to themselves. They ruled the world, and Arabelle had strived to be them one day. Now, as they dove last minute into the subway, surrounded by strangers, she felt that way. They had escaped the police, silent allies in a game that had no name.


End file.
